Snatched from the Fire
by ShinkonoKokoro
Summary: Future!AU, Arthur's returning home for his sister's wedding. And just when he's faced with death, he's impossibly rescued.


_Rating: Mature just to watch my back. Contains references to sex between two guys._

* * *

><p>Clutching the oxygen mask to his face, Arthur squeezed the armrest and felt his ears pop for the second time. He tried to ignore his screaming neighbours and the general panic around him as he was living the worst plane crash nightmare possible. Not dry flames rushed towards him, his jaw wrenched so tightly shut his teeth might crack from the force of it.<p>

He turned his head away from the flames, finally able to squeeze his eyelids down so he wouldn't see the end.

And then the roaring and screaming stopped. A hand, tight, around his wrist, jerking. Voice, rumbling, "You cannot die here."

Arthur stared up into eyes of fire surrounded by unruly black hair, a cloak swirling around him even as the air was still. Arthur trembled and shrank back into the seat, feeling weak as he tried to tug back his wrist.

Then everything flashed white.

* * *

><p>Arthur woke. His shirt clung to his chest, and when he flexed his toes, his trainers felt soggy. It was dark when he opened his eyes. Nothing seemed broken. It smelled of wet grass, worms, and rain. He shivered.<p>

"What the hell...?" He croaked. Arthur's hands came away damp as he pushed himself to his feet, wobbled, and then caught himself on his knees. Fumbling in his pockets for his mobile, he found it, almost dropped it, swore, and then turned it on. "Shit." No signal. Wait... there. He scrolled through his apps, opening the GPS. Getting successfully to his feet this time, Arthur paced the wet, chilly field, turning sharply as he waited for his location to load. This had to be some sort of fucked up prank by his mates. Where was he. Central Park? A suburb? The plane was a dream, and he—

Arthur pitched forward with a yelp and dropped his phone. "Fuck! Bloody buggering fucking son of an ass!" Reaching out to what he tripped over, he shouted again and scrambled back away from the body. A body. A fucking body.

Body? The man who rescued him from the plane? What. The hell. Was going on? Gingerly, he searched out his phone and flinched when the screen lit up again. "Shit..." He was in bloody England. How...?

He must have been staring at the unconscious—he _hoped_ it was unconscious—body for a while, because dawn was starting to raise her head on the horizon.

"Um..." he tried. Arthur nudged the form with a toe, relief sweeping through him as it groaned. "Are you okay?"

The form shuddered, long thin fingers appearing from under the edge of the cloak covering him. Bright blue eyes suddenly fixed him in place as the hand grabbed bruisingly at his ankle. Arthur once again felt very small as the eyes turned to fire and a voice croaked, "Think of home."

Then the world flashed white again.

* * *

><p>This time Arthur woke on the floor of his childhood bedroom, to sun streaming in. He groaned and got to his feet, once again falling over an inert form. The same body. Crouching next to it, he pulled the hood back, brows shooting up at the youth in the face, gaunt hollows under high cheekbones. The hair was soft, silky between his fingertips. He pulled the cloak away as a shroud, afraid of what he might find beneath.<p>

But there was no blood, no gruesome parts that were green or bloated or decaying. Arthur let out his breath. A normal human being. All human parts. Nothing terrifying. He wondered why he'd been so afraid before. He didn't think about how he couldn't see the eyes. He rolled the person over, wincing as the head flopped and the arms slapped the wooden floor loudly. For a body so thin, it had possessed unnatural strength when those hands had grabbed him. Arthur pulled his trouser leg up and pressed fingers against the bruise around his ankle. Now it matched his wrist.

He started as he heard pounding on the stairs, swore again, and dumped his bedding on top of the man, scooting him next to his bed. His door flew open, bouncing off the dresser, and the next thing he knew there was being squeezed to death by his father, sister, and step-mother.

"Arthur! Arthur!" Their voices chorused.

"What...! What's going on!"

His father was the first to pull back, eyes red and drawn. "Arthur," he breathed, voice rough. "We thought..."

"You were supposed to be on that plane!" Morgana accused, though her hair was wild and her mascara had run down her face along tear tracks.

"I... what?" The plane. The plane was real... It had happened...?

"The plane you were supposed to be on went down, Arthur," his father said, back rigid. "How did you—when did you get home?"

The world wasn't quite right, and Arthur found strong hand gripping his arms and easing him onto his bed. The plane. All of those people... The fire. It _had_ happened. And he had almost been charred remains stuck to a melted plastic seat. Arthur bolted to the bathroom, retching into the cool porcelain. Shit.

"Arthur..." Morgana's creased brow appeared in the mirror, and then her hands were warm on his back. "We thought... We thought you'd died... You said you were going to be on that plane... What happened?"

He wobbled on his feet, but moved to the sink, rinsing his mouth out. How to answer... He couldn't tell them a man, now hidden beneath his bedding, was responsible for a miraculous mid-air rescue above the Atlantic? And then brought him home to England. Because that...that would be insane...

"Here... Not that I'm not glad you're home, baby, but..."

Arthur brushed past her, rejoining his parents in his room. He couldn't let them discover...it. "I'm sorry. I just... there was an issue with the flight...and I got another. Um... Gwaine gave me a lift. It was...late... I didn't. Want to wake you..."

His father sighed and ran his fingers through his thinning hair. "_Ar_thur... We saw the news this morning and... we panicked."

"Well I didn't know about it either!" His voice sounded shrill. He couldn't help it. "God! I... I'm sorry you all worried, but please. I just... I need a shower. I need to have a shower. Please..."

"Arthur, dear-heart." Darla placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and then cheek. "We'll have lunch for you when you get down. Take your time. Come on then, you two. Let's leave the poor boy to sort himself." She grabbed Uther's hand and pushed at Morgana's shoulder, giving him a comforting smile on the way out.

As soon as the door was shut, he sank onto his bed again, taking air into his lungs and feeling himself alive. And then sick again. He dropped his head between his knees. "Shit... What is going on..." Giving himself a few minutes to just _be_, he stripped methodically and stepped into the shower, letting the warm water the living appreciated run over his head and back, clearing the sick feeling away.

He towelled his hair and pulled out a spare pair of pants and some trousers, a bit too snug—he'd have to go shopping for clothes—his luggage must have gone down with the plane—sick again, and returned to his room to find the mystery man standing in the middle of the room. Bedclothes still clinging to him. His head swivelled, and his blue eyes focused in on Arthur. Arthur didn't move. If he admitted it, _couldn't_ move. Couldn't breathe.

"Arthur..." the man, apparently it was a man, striking, sighed, the sharpness relaxing as it—his lips curved up in a smile. He swayed slightly, long hair tangled and half in his face, waiting. "Arthur?"

"Sorry..." He frowned. "Do I... know you?"

"Know—Arthur..." The man's features knotted up, looking disappointed, and almost broken. "Arthur, you're not...taking the piss... You..."

He couldn't help feeling a bit guilty, so he hitched a shoulder. "Sorry, mate. I've never seen you before in my life."

"Yes you have."

"Um. No. No, I haven't."

"Yes," the man leaned forward, nodding like it could convince him. "You know me, Arthur. You've known me all your life. You can't tell me you don't recognise me!"

"Alright, you look a bit familia—"

"Yes, yes you see! What year. Arthur, what year is it?"

"It's—what? How do you not kno—"

"Just _tell_ me," the man whined, shaking off the bedding and shuffling a step closer.

"It's 2016."

"Oh."

This rocked him. Arthur could practically see it happening: the complete loosening of his muscles and his eyes rolling up towards the ceiling. And then Arthur was by his side, easing him to the floor before he knew it. "Er...you alright, mate?"

"Merlin," the man breathed shallowly.

"What?"

"I'm, Merlin. You don't know me?"

"I...I don't..." Arthur shook his head. "Listen, I'm really sort of confused about the whole chain of events for the past hours... So I'm sure—"

"_Ar_thur..." The man's eyelids fluttered.

"Oi! You alright? You're not—"

"Oh..." His gaze cleared slightly. "No. No, I'm fine... I'm just... This was too soon... I sensed...I sensed your panic. You needed me." He rolled off of Arthur's lap and managed to stand—though for a body so apparently malnourished, it seemed impossible.

Arthur watched him as he wandered around Arthur's room, touching things, gazing briefly out the window, trailing long fingers along the foot of the bed. His eyes were glazed over, soft, pale blue. Nothing like that sharp, piercing expression from on the plane. Or in the field. Arthur was glad he was sitting.

Merlin turned and gazed at him, eyes suddenly sharp again. "Are _you_ okay?"

"Me. Me? I almost _died_ yesterday! Today. Whatever the hell day it is!" His voice was turning shrill, but, being on the outside edge of escaping death, he felt he was entitled. "I don't know what happened, _Mer_lin!"

The man stared at him, a goofy little smile twisting his face until he looked no more harmless than a first year uni student that Arthur liked to make fun of with his mates.

"What? What is it! Why are you smiling at me like you're some sort of social failure who just got your first kiss from a girl!" He leaned up on his bed to get to his feet.

"My name..."

"You obviously are troubled, my friend."

"Are we friends?" Merlin grinned, eyes creasing up until they were barely visible, like he had some joke that was waiting to burst out.

Arthur snorted. "Okay. I don't know what you're doing here. I don't know what's going on. I don't know how I'm not dead, because what I _do_ know is that I was _on_ that plane. I _felt_ the fire. I—here! Look! I broke my nails gripping that armrest so hard." When he looked back at the man—boy—_Merlin_, he was no longer smiling. "Care to explain that?"

"I could. It's much harder because you don't remember."

"Rememb—"

"But I can try. Obvious things first. I saved you. What you saw was not fake. The plane did go down. As your family affirmed." He squinted at Arthur. "My eyes do change colour. When I use magic, apparently. Not 'apparently.' I've known it for centuries now. Yes. Centuries. Come on, Arthur... You're not that dim. You may pretend, but you really are very smart. Put it together. What else could have happened. I... I was confused when I rescued you, so I brought you to... Well. I brought you home. But it... It's much later than I thought it was." His eyes glazed again, looking back on something Arthur couldn't see. Then he shook his head. "Important thing is, you're alive and safe."

"I can't... I don't even believe this. And..." He gestured at the man's outfit. "What are you even wearing! You look like... I don't even know what you look like!"

Merlin laughed suddenly. "Oh, Arthur," mumbled with such fondness that Arthur's heart felt squeezed. "You'd like me to update my wardrobe? Would that make you more comfortable?"

"I...whatever. It's not—I have clothes that you can borrow if you want."

"No, no. Your clothes never fits me." Merlin shook his head.

Arthur saw his eyes flash and then the clothes swirled and faded, giving him a brief flash of white skin before the garments smoothed into something resembling sturdy trainers, jeans, and a cosy-looking jumper. "What _are_ you...?" he breathed in awe.

Merlin laughed again. "I'm a warlock. Wizard. Whichever. I figured that would be implied by my saying 'when I use magic.'"

"So...all of that... the bit about Harry Potter is _real_?"

"Harry Potter?" Merlin looked confused. "I don't..."

Arthur dropped his head into his hands. "I don't know what's going on. What is my life." A warm hand was on his shoulder, and he relaxed into it, wondering why even as he did so.

"It's alright, Arthur. You'll remember. In the meanwhile, you're hungry. Did you want to go downstairs for some lunch?"

"I..." His stomach growled. "I don't understand you..."

"That's fine," Merlin said with a placid smile. "Shall we?"

"Wait wait!" Arthur stopped him as he put his hand on the doorknob. "What do you mean 'we'?"

"Aren't we going to get something to eat? I haven't had food in a very long time. I don't doubt that I'm just as hungry as you are!"

"And how am I going to explain you to my father?"

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Still concerned about your father, are you?"

"Of _course_!" Arthur protested, pulling him back. Merlin stumbled, bumped against him. "He's my father. Of course I want to do well by him!"

"Always your father..."

"_Mer_lin, I don't know what you _mean_ by insisting on talking like you know me, but I've never met you before in my life! And you need to stop talking...strangely."

"Strangely? Well, you haven't met me before in _this_ life, I suppose, but you know me very well, Arthur. You just..." He swayed suddenly, gripping Arthur's shoulder. "Arthur. Arthur, I need to _eat_, Arthur."

"You're the magician! Magic yourself some food!" He crossed his arms, glowering, but yes, he was a little alarmed by the rapid paling of Merlin's face.

"It doesn't work that way! Besides, it never tastes right! I need—oh for the love of the gods..." Merlin grabbed Arthur's hand and dragged him out. "They'll never notice me. Say you had a friend from uni come home with you for the... what is this? Wedding celebration? Morgana's! Dear gods!"

"How... how are you _doing_ that? Are you reading my mind? Fuck, Merlin! Those are my private thoughts! Get out!"

Merlin's lip curled. "Ew, I would regret that decision in the morning too..."

Arthur decked him in the arm.

"Ow! That still hurts, you know! You never know how strong you really are—I'm out. Relax, you prat. That hasn't changed at least..."

"What? What on earth did you just call me?"

Merlin grinned, leading him down the stairs. "I've been asleep for centuries. Waiting for you to come back. I woke up. Early, because you needed me. And I needed to save you. The plane wasn't supposed to go down. But... Well. Accidents happen... You mum cooking? Is it Ygraine?"

"Do you _always_ talk this much, Merlin?"

He grinned as they headed to the dining room. "You like to tell me quite frequently—"

"Shut. Up."

"Oh yes. Just like that! You remember?"

"What, no! There's nothing for me to remember! You're just annoying!"

"Sorry, dear?"

"Darla. Nothing."

Merlin darted forward, glee written clearly on his features. "Hello! My name is Merlin! A friend of Arthur's. We go to college together!"

Arthur quickly schooled his face into something that hopefully resembled a smile. Where did the American accent come from?

"Oh? Arthur...?" His father's eyes bored right through him. "When did your friend arrive?"

"I've been here the whole time! I was sleeping next to Arthur's bed, on the floor—"

"The floor!" Darla protested.

"Oh, it's fine, Mrs. Pe—" He looked sharply at Arthur and then smiled at his mother in law. "Peterson. I'm used to floors. I think I stole all of the sheets..." He shrugged, looking harmless and sheepish. "Sorry, Art."

Arthur stared at him in horror. _Art_?

"Art!" Morgana chirped with delighted glee. "So nice of you to bring a _friend_ home."

"Morgana! I heard about the wedding. Congratulations!" Merlin continued, unperturbed. "He must be a lovely fellow."

Morgana blinked at him. "Yes. Yes, he is." Then her wicked grin returned.

"Well, join us for lunch, boys!" Darla said, nodding at the empty seats.

Merlin sat down quickly next to Darla, leaving Arthur to the seat next to his sister. "Casserole! Smells delicious!"

"Arthur! Come sit!" Morgana called.

He sat, pasted a smile and promptly kicked Merlin underneath the table. Stupid sod didn't even show a sign he'd hit.

* * *

><p>Arthur dragged Merlin back upstairs once they were finished eating. "All better, <em>chum<em>?"

"Much. Really, Arthur—"

"No! No, I don't think so!" Arthur pushed his door shut and spun on Merlin. "You don't get to...to come in here, _charm_ my family into the palm of your hand—"

"I don't know if I got your father. He was always a tough nut to crack. Never liked me the first time. Though I think he was gratefu—"

"_Merlin_! Shut up!"

"Yup, that's me. Shutting up." He grinned.

"You can't _do _this! This... This does not _happen_!"

"Shouldn't you call Gwaine to confer stories? Or do you want me to just..." Merlin waggled his fingers and then giggled.

"What the _fuck_ is your problem. What. The fuck."

"Geeze, you've turned into a pottymouth. You never used to be this crude!"

"MERLIN!"

"Yes, yes. Fake memories it is..." His eyes glazed over with gold and then he smiled, flopping back on Arthur's bed. "Done!"

"Wha—no! You—aaugh!"

Merlin sat, giving Arthur a concerned look. "You need to calm down. Your father has cholesterol issues already..."

Arthur turned away so he wouldn't have to look at the man, digging fingers into his temples. "Please leave."

"Arthur—"

"No. Stop talking to me like you know me. Stop pretending you're my friend—in fact!" He spun to stalk to the bed and jab a finger into the man's breastbone. "If you call me '_Art_' one more time, I'm going to rearrange your face. Do I make myself clear."

"Clear as British." Merlin laughed. "You wouldn't."

"Because we want to test that theory," Arthur growled.

"Ah yes, Sire." And grinned like a mad fool.

Arthur shoved him back and stalked away. Started when there was a knock at the door. "Who—" He sighed heavily as it swung open. "Morgana."

"Arthur! And... Merlin was it?"

"Morgana! Hullo."

"Sorry, you look familiar... Have we met?"

Merlin shook his head, swinging his legs like a child on the bed. "Nope! We might be friends on facebook though."

"Ooh. Yes. Of course..." Morgana leaned against the door frame, eyebrows dipping down as she thought about all of Arthur's friends that she knew. Arthur cringed as he saw the moment where she gave up and gave in to torturing him. "So Arthur! This is a first!"

Merlin looked wide-eyed, smiling, at Morgana, and then back at Arthur.

"Bringing a boyfriend home... Brazen! I must say."

"B-boyfriend! This idiot? Morgana, you must be mad! I would no more da—"

"Come on, Arthur..." Morgana rolled her eyes. "I've known for ever. You must know that. Or have a very low opinion of me if you think I've not noticed. Lance in sixth form?"

Arthur glared at her, noticing the crinkles appearing at the corners of Merlin's eyes again. "This... _thing—_he's not even hu—" Arthur felt the world whoosh and then time was frozen. Again. He whirled to face Merlin. The gold was swirling in his eyes again, brow arched. He was still sitting on Arthur's bed, leaning back on his hands as if he were doing nothing so impossible as stopping time. Arthur cursed as he felt the urge to cringe in on himself. "Stop that!"

"Arthur, you can't tell anyone about what I am. The world isn't ready. I'm not supposed to be here yet." And his eyes were suddenly older than the world. "But you needed me. So I came. Do you understand, Arthur? You called me out." Then he stood, bringing storms at his back, brow darkened, hair fluttering around his shoulders with a life of its own. "I was not supposed to be back yet. But..." Artful shrug. "Time changes. As always. And it is not always as I foresee. Morgana stands at your back—"

"What?" Arthur squawked.

Merlin dipped his head. "She will stand by you through anything this time. Your father is sane; it must be his remarrying. And no burden of rule. At any rate, Arthur, you are clearly not ready for me." He dropped his frightening gaze and sighed, the weight of mountains breaking there. "I should leave. You..." He shook his head. "You are young. Not ready yet. In this life. I'm sorry. I will have to..." He extended a hand and Arthur jerked back.

"What are you doing!"

Merlin's lips dragged up while he shook his head, hair hiding his eyes. "I will take the memories. They...they are doing more harm than good right now. I..."

"Merlin, don't be an idiot," Arthur snapped. "You're not taking anything from me!" The words felt familiar.

"I'm happy to be with you until the day I die, Sire, but this, I must do."

If someone rang a bell next to his head, he might have been less addled.

"Merlin...?" The man hesitated and Arthur lunged, wrestling his arms behind his back and pinning him against the bed.

"You know, Arthur..." Merlin grunted, "if you wanted me in your bed like this, you could have just asked. Is this okay in this life?"

Arthur jerked back, sneering at the thin back. "You're sick."

"Ah. So not okay then." Merlin rotated his shoulder, not looking at Arthur.

"I...that's not... Dammit, Merlin. I don't know what to do with you. You... you're messing everything up, and I can't..."

Merlin regarded him, tilting his head at him. "Good gods, you're wrecked." Merlin sighed again and resituated himself. "Very well. Then let's talk this through. What do you know of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table?"

"I want your word that you won't do anything to me that I don't want you to do," Arthur demanded, staring down his nose.

"Of course."

"That...that easily?"  
>"Arthur," Merlin smiled fondly, "I would never hurt you. Ever. Can you sense that much?"<p>

"I...I believe you..." Arthur stayed out of his reach anyway. "Continue."

"King Arthur?"

"A legendary king of Camelot,early England."

"Wales...but yes."

"And...? You're... what. What are you implying with that look."

"You haven't noticed a connection? Arthur. Gwaine. Lance. Lancelot, that is. Percy, who would be Percival of legend. And did you not date a girl named Guinevere for a—"

"Stop it! Stop reading my mind, dammit!"

Merlin shrugged, the fluid lift of his shoulders, exposing a long neck. "You don't hide them very well, sorry. I'm not used to being able to so easily hear them."

"That's creepy."

"Sorry. So what do you feel about me?"

"You? Well, I—"

"You can take your time to think about it. I'll wait." His smile was lop-sided as he settled back on the bed, hands linked behind his head.

"I don't know who you are, Merlin. You explode into my life and imply that I'm King Arthur. What the hell am I supposed to do with that?"

Merlin shrugged.

"You just want me to believe you. And you're... shit, you're the the wizard Merlin." Arthur smacked his forehead. "Well now what."

"You tell me."

Arthur squinted at him, trying to get a read on him. Dangerous? Not right now. Was this important? Very. Decision? "Very well. What happens if I accept all of this? I'm King Arthur back to life, et cetera, et cetera."

"Except you're not."

"But you just said I wa—"

"Yes. You are. But you don't remember. Because it isn't time yet."

"You keep saying that."

"Yes. Because it's true. I shouldn't be telling you all of this. But..."

"But?"

The laugh he gave was hollow and his eyes looked ages old again. "It's nice to see you, Arthur."

A cold feeling spread throughout his stomach, inching its way along his bones. "You said you wouldn't do anything without my permission!"

"Arthur..." A reprimand. Gentle scolding.

"What else! Tell me what else!" he hissed through grit teeth—jaw still hurt from the plane.

"If you're here, it means that there is something for you to do. Accomplish. Arthur, you unite. You united all of Albion, and you'll unite all of... I don't know. I haven't Seen it. Morgana was always better at that."

"Morgana!"

"Yes. A Seer. Powerful. I have only a fraction of her power." Seeing his pale face, Merlin laughed. "At Seeing. I assure you: I am more powerful in every other way."

"You scare me," he found himself admitting.

"Another sign that it is too soon," Merlin said gently as he got to his feet. He moved to Arthur, cupped his cheek. "My dear heart. You are so young."

Frowning, Arthur countered, "Not so young..."

Merlin chuckled. "Always a voracious sexual appetite... Ah, but you blush. I haven't seen you blush in many years."

"You're twisted."

"Always in ways you enjoy, my friend..."

Arthur frowned. "Did we ever..."

"Not the first time. Not ever." Merlin dropped his hand, but kept the contact, tracing the breadth of Arthur's back as he circled around him. "Are you curious?"

When Merlin was back in front of him, Arthur made it obvious how his eyes trailed along the contours of his body, jeans tight around his hips and crotch. "You are."

"I feel like I deserve a reward."

"Fuck..." Arthur breathed. With only his right hand for a partner since Ben back at uni his first year, Arthur needed. As tight as Merlin's jeans _looked_, his own felt tighter.

"Of course..." Merlin backed away. "I could leave now and you won't see me again until you need me.

Both his face and Arthur's cock knew that was now. The tip of Merlin's tongue darted out as his eyes dropped. "You won't."

"Confident?" Hopeful.

"I need you now, Merlin."

Teeth coming down on his lips, Merlin nodded, darting forward to take a brief taste of Arthur's lips. "Good. Stand in front of your sister."

"_What_?"

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Unless you want her standing there while we have a proper snog, then I suggest you get rid of her." He arranged Arthur how he wanted him and then propped himself on the bed and when his eyes flashed, Arthur was ready.

"You know what. Fine. I'm sorry I lied," Arthur spat. "But this is exactly why! You involve yourself where you don't belong. I don't bother you and Leon, do I?"

"Arthur..." Morgana drawled, folding her arms. "You bother Leon and I _all_ the time."

Arthur frowned. "Yes. Fine. Poor example. But I don't bother you about your sex life. Gods know, I _don't_. But," Arthur took her hands, giving her a small smile. "please kindly bugger off. And here. Hang a sock on the door on your way out."

"Ew! Arthur!" Morgana dropped the sock and swatted him. "You're disgusting."

"And 'Morgy' and 'Le—"

"Yes! Point taken. Leon and I have our moments. Fine, Arthur. Merlin." She dipped her head. "A pleasure to meet you. I assume we'll be seeing more of you."

"Much, yes. Hopefully. Morgana." He swung his legs, looking harmless again. Daft eyes wide and innocent smile spreading his lips. "Please, let me know if you need anything... You understand?"

"I... Yes, Merlin. Thank you. Are you...not American?"

He grinned. "Pretty good, eh? But no. British down to my bones." He laughed and gave her a wave. "It was just in case things didn't go well. Plus a bit of fun!

"Well, boys, your secret is safe with me. Have fun!"

The moment she was gone, Merlin growled, eyes flashed, the door locked, and he was pressing Arthur into the sheets, clothing suddenly gone. Arthur found very little about which to complain.

* * *

><p>Arthur frowned around at the castle. Had Merlin taken him somewhere new in their...bout of rather steamy and impossible sex. Merlin knew every way to push Arthur a little higher, a kiss, a twist of his fingers, a low moan, sending him over the edge after an embarrassingly short period of time. People wandered by, bowing to him, and when he looked down, he was wearing chin mail and a long red cape. The heavy pressure at his temples turned out to be a cold metal circlet.<p>

"Arthur!" A voice called to him, sounding muted, as if he were underwater. When he turned, he fell—backwards, and then he was underwater, light filtering through like some promise of life. He grit his teeth, striking for the surface, arms stabbing forward to pull him up, except he wasn't moving. That's how it always felt. Being king.

Being king? Arthur shook his head and kept trying to swim upwards.

But the crown was heavy.

The crown?

Chain mail. But the chain mail was gone. He was naked. And the crown was weighing him down. His lungs were starting to ache, and the surface seemed no closer.

"Arthur..."

"Shut _up_, Merlin!" He snapped and then panicked, but no water entered his lungs. He wasn't drowning. And the light was streaming through the curtains. Blinking, Merlin was propped to his right, light hitting him, outlining his thin hips and trim waist from behind.

"Arthur?"

"It was... it was a dream, Merlin. Just a dream." Merlin looked at him, searching for something. Arthur met his gaze and waited to see if he found it. There were all of these memories floating around his head. Another life? Did he believe the warlock? His father had always thought of him as stupid, and so had Arthur for most of his life—but not this life. Because he just met Merlin. He shook his head. "A dream, but not. This is very confusing."

"Do you remember?" Merlin's brows flew up and happiness fairly beamed from every pore as he sat to attention.

"I...not yet. I—" He watched the man's face fall. "I remember some. It's very confusing. Two sets of memories. They're not... It's not complete. I remember... Gaius, was it? Morgana. Gwen. The knights. I do remember some of it. These people... My father. Shit, my father, Merlin. My father was insane... Certifiably insane..." Arthur dragged the heels of his hands over his eyes. "I don't..."

"So you do remember!" Merlin bounced on the bed, and Arthur swore as everything seemed to levitate.

"Merlin!"

"Sorry!"

"You're not sorry at all," Arthur grumbled as he bounced slightly on the bed. "How long ago did I fall asleep?"

"Not too long..." Merlin beamed. "I think you passed out from your last orgasm."

He felt his cheeks grow hot. "Shut up, Merlin."

"Let's get dressed, yeah? Go out? It's probably almost time for dinner. Maybe we can invite Morgana. She doesn't remember. I don't know if she will this lifetime. She has in the past. She's usually frightened by her own powers, but I plan on helping her this time."

"So she doesn't go rogue and try to kill me, you mean," Arthur drawled as he rolled out of bed, striding over to his dresser.

"She won't."

"You're sure?"

Merlin shrugged again, stretching his arms up. "She has had a different life. A happier one, if I'm correct. And she's getting married. Uther loves her. She knows that she's his daughter. There are many things this life that she did not. She has the freedom to be herself."

He frowned. "I suppose..." He pulled open a drawer, slipping on fresh pants.

"Aw... I was enjoying the view!"

"Why did I ever put up with you?"

"Because I do fabulous things to you, and you like it."

"You're just a randy, centuries-old wizard," Arthur snorted. "Honestly, Merlin."

"Arthur!" His step-mother's voice echoed through the house. "Are you and your friend coming down for dinner?"

"Ah, yes, Darla!" He turned to Merlin. "I suppose I'm hungry..."

"Mm, should be..." Merlin murmured, eyes flashing as fresh clothes draped his body.

"Could you do that freshen up trick?"

"Oh, you remember that?" Merlin's eyes flashed again and Arthur jumped as the sensation swept over his skin.

"Weird. But yes." He shrugged into clothes and then left for dinner. Arthur used dinner to collect himself, straighten his thoughts. Merlin kicked him a couple of times beneath the table, and he managed appropriate responses to questions. Morgana was giving him strange looks, he knew, but Merlin blabbered on enough to cover for the both of them. He was vaguely aware of Merlin blabbing some history about how they met, the fake American accent, and how they came to be friends. And maybe more than friends if he heard right and his father could read subtle.

Arthur wandered out to the back yard, knowing Merlin would follow. Something didn't... "Merlin..." He said slowly, shoving hands into his pockets.

"Yes, Arthur?"

"The plane, Merlin."

"What about it?"

He felt the world begin to tilt before him, but his feet were oaks in the ground and he did not fall. "Merlin, all of those people on the plane. They all died."

"They did."

His hands clenched to fists. "They all died when you saved me. You saved _only_ me."

"Oh Arthur..." Merlin groaned, as if it were all too familiar an argument. "Arthur, I wasn't aware of what was going on. I was newly awakened, ripped from the earth, and I was only aware of you and your distress. I couldn't—"

"_Go back_."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Go. Back. Save them," Arthur ordered, no longer oak, but steel, refusing to turn around.

"Arthur, I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"I can't, Arthur."

"You can travel time, can't you?"

"I can, but this is not..." He growled under his breath, the sound sending shivers down Arthur's spine. "My duty is to Albio—England. To you. You are the king."

"And my_ order_ to you, Merlin, is to save those people. They have families. They have loved ones that will miss them."

"And you know as well that there are limitations to what I can and can _not_ do—"

"Really, Merlin." Arthur turned. "Because I think it's a limit of what you will and _won't_ do. Because if I remember properly, and I think I'm starting to, it was always a bit of what you wanted to do, and if my orders fell in line with that, then you would do as I say."

Merlin's face looked made of stone in the twilight hours. He always looked best at these hours, Arthur recalled. "Fine. You're right. Let's get it all out here and now. Your family won't hear us—" His eyes flashed. "—and we can get this all out of our system. I lied to you. Remember who your father was. Remember how much of a liability it would have been had you known. I didn't want you to have to cover for me, and I didn't want to have to run. So I lied. I have amazing powers, yes. I can travel in time, call dragons, move the earth, See the future, and hide the sun. I cannot bring the dead back. I cannot change their lines of fate. They were slated to die that day. You were not. Things changed. I wasn't ready. Don't you _see_ me, Arthur? I'm not well. I wasn't ready to wake! And I know you value saving life, but doing that will kill me. I am not at full strength."

"Full strength!" Arthur snorted in disbelief. "Merlin, you had me cowering when you appeared in front of me!"

"Oh yes. Yes," Merlin drawled with a roll of his eyes. "That was all very flashy—bleeding power everywhere. It was remnants of me at my greatest."

"Well no wonder we conquered all of Albion."

"No..." Merlin's face softened and he walked closer, shoulders rounded and hair limp. "No, that was all you, Arthur. Your charisma. Your expertise. Your ruling. You were wise and compassionate. Still are somewhere in that bluster. I was just your advisor."

"And the muscle," he joked.

"No. You had your knights for that."

"What _did_ you do then, Merlin."

"Let's sit... Please."

"Are you really not alright?"

"Why would I lie about that?"

"I..." He frowned and moved to Merlin, taking his arm. "What do you need? Can I help?"

"Just let me acclimate." Merlin leaned into Arthur's chest, letting his forehead fall against Arthur's shoulder. "It's been very long since I've been in the true world, and not amongst dreams. I'm sorry. I think I need to sleep..."

When he sagged, Arthur closed his arms, holding him up, sinking to the grass so he could scoop him up. Hesitating while his heart kicked faster, Arthur pushed the door open and hurried past his father's study up to his bedroom again, laying Merlin on his bed. He waited a few minutes to see if he would wake, but he didn't even stir. Arthur folded his hands across his chest, but quickly moved them as it seemed too funereal. And Merlin wasn't dead. Merlin was only sleeping.

* * *

><p>Over the next week, during which Arthur lied to his family about Merlin being gone and visiting some friends, Arthur had lots of time to think with Merlin's voice not in his ear. He buried himself in preparations for his sister's wedding and got very personal with Leon through the joys of his bachelor party.<p>

He came home after shopping with his father for a proper suit since he didn't have one that fit properly anymore to find Merlin sitting at the table with his step-mother and two of Morgana's friends, looking much ruddier.

"Arthur!" He quickly stood and came over to him while his father clinked his keys on the table next to the front door and headed upstairs to hang his suit. "How was your week?"

"Fine. Fine. Listen, I have to hang my suit. Follow me upstairs?" Arthur brushed past him.

"Yeah. Yeah, sure."

And with Merlin bumbling after him like a puppy, Arthur smiled. Lots had come back to him and been sorted in the week. And this was just like old times. "Perhaps when we get to my room," Arthur said on the stairs, "you can do my laundry, press my clothes, clean my room, and change my sheets as well." Turning on the landing, he flicked his eyes to Merlin's face just in time to catch the jaw dropping and the eyes popping wide.

"Y-yo-you _prat_!"

He got a shove which sent him stumbling into his bedroom door, but he turned and gave Merlin an impressive glare and affronted look. "What the hell, mate!"

"I—_Arthur_!" But his lips were curling up and his eyes took on a twinkle. "You remember!"

"I told you I did, you great idiot," Arthur grinned, hanging his suit inside his closet before turning back to Merlin. "Listen, I'm sorry. You're right. I just... I wasn't thinking clearly. Obviously, I want to save those people. It's not fair that I should live because I have my own personal wizard that I didn't know about and they don't. But everything was still really new, and I didn't understand—I still don't, I think, but I wanted to help them. And—"

"Arthur, you _always_ want to help. That's nothing new."

"I know. And it won't change. But... I understand. We can't save everyone. We can try. But I wanted to say I'm sorry for snapping at you. It wasn't fair. And I don't remember everything still. Still trying to sort it, but I know that last time...we didn't quite have everything we wanted, so I thought..." He took a deep breath. "I thought that this time we should. Have everything."

"Arthur," Merlin said slowly. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying we should get our chance. My father's not nearly so unforgiving. And I'm sure he'll appreciate the status upgrade from kind of wealthy to being the father of the King." He tossed Merlin a lopsided smile. "Right? Right, Merlin?"

The tension left his frame as he crossed the distance between them and pressed himself up against Arthur. "Absolutely," he managed to breathe before he cupped Arthur's face and kissed him senseless.

"Right..." Arthur pulled back, lips feeling full and tender. "Are we going to have a repeat of the other afternoon?"

"If you want?" Merlin smiled, eyes at half-mast, the coy expression strange on his face now that he was more familiar with the variety of expressions it flew through in a day.

"I do," Arthur said, voice husky. "First, however, Merlin..."

"Yes?"

"Change the sheets."

"What?"

Arthur grinned. "Change the sheets. Then maybe I'll let you shag me."

"Shit." His face went slack but his eyes flashed and there was a rustle from the bed behind him. He turned to look, but Merlin pushed him back onto the bed and divested him of his clothing.

"Will you still let me do this when I'm king?" Merlin crooned, dipping to bit gently on a nipple before continuing his path downwards.

"Oh yeah.."

"Good to know," Merlin teased, trailing fingers back from his bollocks making Arthur jump. "Been a while?"

"Yes," Arthur groaned. "Merlin..."

"Yes, Arthur...?"

He pulled Merlin down for a kiss. "I've missed you. And I can't wait to be king with you by my side."

"I love it when you tell me what you want..." Merlin murmured, slipping a finger into him.

"Good," Arthur grunted as he arched into the sensation. "Because next you're going to have to cut your hair some..."

Merlin laughed. "I think I can do that... Arthur?"

"Get on with it, Merlin!"

"I love you."

"Yes, yes. Love you too, now let's get on with it!"

"As your highness commands."


End file.
